|Current mood:|| depressed|
|Current music:||Coast To Coast AM---George Noory, WOC AM 1420|
It's Friday, You Bastards
It's not like I ever have what you could call a good week but not many of them have been this bad. The worst part, as always, was work. I was in London, where I've been every day for what seems like the last 500 years, again, working on the Invasion Detail. If you haven't seen the news lately, London is hosting the big Tiddlywinks regional semifinals competition, or something like that and a lot of officials are worried that one or more unfriendly ET civilizations will seize the opportunity to mount a hostile takeover of the Earth and are counting on me to stop it.
And since you haven't been watching the news, let me be the first to tell you that we haven't been invaded by the Lizard People Of Ploontirch 7 and I deserve a raise. A big one. So why is it that I never get what I deserve? All I ever get is abuse, abuse and abuse. Then, just to make matters worse, Ann Coulter called my boss, The Chief, and demanded that he fire me.
So I asked him why, what did I ever do to her? And he said, "Well, you did say that she has all the personality of a moldy piece of used toilet paper but that doesn't bother her too much because she's been called much worse. It's mostly because she's determined to get someone fired and you're on her short list of extremely likely candidates."
Then there's the other worst part of my life which is everything that happens outside of work. And then there's the absolute worst part of my life which is when work and non-work merge in the same place at the same time. Which should be impossible because two objects can't occupy the same space at the same time but it happens way more than it should. Would it be too much trouble for God to enforce the classical laws of physics once in a while instead of constantly thrusting me into a Quantum Mechanical nightmare?
I could write a thousand ten-thousand page volumes on just how bad this week was but since my reader feedback service indicates that you would prefer the Readers' Digest Condensed version, that's what I will give you. My Chef De Cuisine and Chief Executive Vice President In Charge Of Domestic Bliss, Suzette, was in London all week, too, because she really likes Tiddlywinks.
And while that is far more misery and misfortune than anyone should be forced to endure, the fates that control my life decided it wasn't nearly enough for me. So they insisted on Minx, my secretary, insisting on going with me everyday because she really likes Tiddlywinks, too, while they simultaneously insisted on Suzette insisting that we have lunch together everyday because, "We never spend any time together anymore and as long as we are going to be in the same city everyday, it's a good time to change that."
And to make this short story even shorter, Minx and Suzette are like oil and water. Except that oil and water mix better. So while all I wanted to do was my job and thoroughly interrogate all the witnesses and informants at Browns and The Griffin (http://www.browns-griffin.co.uk/ and that is a completely uncompensated plug just in case you work for the IRS because I need any trouble from you), I was stuck between the big stupid immovable object and the big stupid irresistible force and all their big stupid demands and complaints.
That brings us to here, wherever that is, which is Friday night and has anyone ever needed a drink more than me? I don't think so. So let's go see what Fifi, my Sommelier, has cooked up for tonight's Theme Drink:
6 cl Melon vodka (Artic)
4 cl Malibu rum
3 cl Pisang Ambon
7 cl Lemon juice
1 splash Cream
Shake and serve over ice.
Why cream again for the second week in a row? Never mind. I don't want to get sucked into yet another bottomless debate with no chance of ever achieving escape velocity. So let's just say it is and that's that so we can get to tonight's featured party games. The betting window is open but I recommend you skip it because if you can't simply enjoy the 100 Meter Women's Synchronized Wardrobe Malfunction Dash and Women's Nude Oil Wrestling competitions without sullying them with gambling, I think you have a big problem.